Drop The Girl
by Aurontalia
Summary: Another of my AU HP songfics, it only makes vague sense. Mostly inner monologue from Draco about things.


**Drop The Girl**

**(song by 'Hit The Lights,')**

**Summary: Yet another song-fic from my vague Harry Potter AU universe (AU after the 5th book, with Sirius still alive, and some other differences). This is set during the beginning of the seventh year, where Hermione and Pansy have broken up, and Hermione and Draco are vaguely friends over it. And yes, the term "Muddleborn" is intentional.**

**_Disclaimer: I own only the angst. _**

_Drop the girl she's not worth the time_

Draco walked down the couridor, his autumn robes swinging behind him and making a swish-swish noise. He'd just finished a session of Astronomy and Arithmancy. The mixed properties of class had been fun, he and Herm- The-, _Granger_, chattering loudly about the possibilities of the mathematic implication of Mars coming closer to Venus while the Patil twins looked on disapprovingly. Blaise hadn't looked happy either, and he was relatively neutral for a Slytherin.

_She's wasted on her back dragging other boys into her lies_

Lately that was all he was hearing. First it had been from the older Slytherin's who turned up periodically to deliver messages to Snape or from his father, ones that couldn't be trusted to go through the post. He may not have liked Umbridge, but at least she didn't read his letters, unlike Dumbledore.

_You know she's no good for you_

The other Slytherins would make pointed remarks when they saw him talking to the Mud- Granger, and scowl. They'd bring up how she was a dirty Mudblood, and stood for everything they didn't. They'd bring up how one Slytherin had already died because of her. They'd even gone so far as to threaten him, bringing up how his father couldn't protect him. He'd put an end to that quickly enough. As if he couldn't curse the pants off the lot of them with his wand hand hexed behind his back.

_She'd sink lower than her body, and the Hudson could ever do_

They'd bring up how she was Potty and Weasel's best friend, and had been since First Year. They'd bring up how she was part of the Order of the Phoenix (Dumbledore still didn't think they knew about it, but they did. It had been the worst kept secret of fifth year). They'd make up dirty implications about how she was probably screwing both of them, and half of Griffindor Tower.

_Drop the girl she's only got it for your heart_

They'd make a point of mocking her old textbooks, and second hand robes, as if they couldn't understand that they'd rather get 10 books second hand than 2 or 3 at new price. She'd explained it to him once after he'd lent her his copy of _The Soul Arts and Arithmancy_. He hadn't even been trying to brag, not that much. But his copy was much better than the one in the Restricted Section of the Library, new and shiny. She hadn't mentioned she owned a far better copy than him, though hers was dirty, with one corner stained a dark brown from a previous owner's mishaps.

_She's tried to leave you... _

What they didn't know was how they'd been meeting up in the library since first year. Just little things. It had happened before he'd known she was a Mud- muddleborn. Er, Muggleborn. They'd started to talk about the transfiguration work she'd done, and how it was just the two of them who could get anything done in potions. He'd made a disparaging remark about Longbottom and Crabb and Goyle's ineptitude, and the dirty word he'd used had slipped past because she was laughing so hard.

_Cause she's all about trying to figure out the breakdown_

Then he'd screwed it all up. He'd asked her why her family had moved from Australia to Britain, and why she didn't sound Australian. He'd asked her if there was a spell for that. She'd been so confused, and he'd gone cold. He could still remember it. His eleven-year-old self, sitting next to her, and it had been like the sudden appearance of a Dementor in the room. Like everything happy was just sucked down the Dementer's waisted throat, and their souls to follow.

_Whoa…_

He'd ran from the room, knocking over the candle nearby so that hot wax poured over his hand. He'd hidden in his bed in the Slytherin dormitories with the throbbing burning feeling of the wax for hours. He hadn't spoken to her in public again after that. Instead, he'd avoided her eyes while the Weasel bullied her more and more.

_And you know she'll turn her back on you, _

When the blister finally popped, gusting clear fluid all over his desk in Potions and ruining his potion, he'd been relieved. It was gone. If he was careful, no one would know that he'd been friends, even for the briefest moments, with a Muddleborn.

_She covers her tracks and buries the clues_

It had been so hard to tell that she was from the way she acted. Even the older students in Slytherin had thought she was Australian, the ones who noticed her. It was in his second year that he'd found that out, and he'd felt so relieved that it wasn't just him who'd been fooled. They'd been talking about whether Potty could be the Heir of Slytherin, and they'd been discussing the dark past of the Potters and the Weasleys. After they'd dismissed Weasley as too stupid to do much, and Potter barely better (unless he was hiding something), they'd turned to the Australian Granger's dark past.

He'd piped up about how she wasn't related at all, and had felt the eyes of everyone in the Common Room turn to him, the Malfoy Prodigy. He'd explained how she wasn't a pureblood Granger, but rather just a common Mudblood. They'd been shocked and had checked it and found him to be right. That was what had lead to the Quidditch Team calling Granger a Mudblood. The older students on it had decided it was only fair that he, the discoverer of the Mudblood, should have the honor. It had tasted like ashes in his mouth, but the cheers they gave him, the slaps on the back, of being a "True Slytherin" felt so good.

_She's only set out to burn you_

They hadn't talked mush in the library after that. At most, they'd see each other in the library, and one would look nostalgic, and then the other would glare. It wasn't hostility so much, but a reminder. They couldn't be friends. Not a Mudblood Griffindor and a Slytherin.

_And you know your better off so c'mon…_

They made a point now of mentioning how he didn't have these perverse tendencies in the past. As if they knew. Even Pansy hadn't known about how he and Gra- The Muddleborn had talked. Even Pansy would've told him to drop her if she'd known.

_Drop the girl you can taste it on her lips_

Avery, Avery the Younger that is, had asked him last week if Granger was a good fuck. He'd asked Draco if Granger let him all sorts of disgusting things, things Draco wouldn't have expected from the dirtiest Polyjuice whore.

_What's she drinking, who she's been with_

Draco had been so stunned he hadn't even replied, and Avery had clapped him on the shoulder and whistled. He'd assumed the worst and grinned at Draco like it was something to be proud of. He'd asked Draco if he minded being sloppy seconds to Potty and Weasel. As if she'd ever screw either of them. He'd barely been able to restrain himself from hexing Avery, so instead he put a Frogspawn curse in his bed. Juvenile, but funny.

_Yeah she's so turned on (so turned on)_

He couldn't stop looking at her now and wondering. No, not THAT. But just, if she'd ever thought of him that way. If he'd ever thought of her that way. Potty he meant, or Weasel, not that he'd ever think of a Muddleborn that way. Not him. Even he had seen Krum asking her out in the library, even if for a second their eyes had met.

Hers had been bright and he had seen everything in them he remembered from those bright days of First Year. He was still second best in school. He'd stalked past them then, his bag slapping against Krum as he got up, and he'd said: "Better take it Mudblood, it's better than any other offer you'll get. Even the Weasel wouldn't want you."

He'd been so lucky Krum hadn't understood enough English to pound his stupid head in. Draco had gotten his comeuppance at the Yule ball though, when he'd seen Herm-, Granger, next to Krum, looking like the most beautiful girl in the room. He'd been to chicken to ask for a dance.

_How everything's gone wrong_

It had been messed up then, and it was still messed up now. Not the same way, but still messed up. It was different now that he kept wondering. He used to tell himself that he only wanted to know if Granger liked him because it was disgusting. He'd given up on that delusion.

_It's all her fault and you know_

It was all her fault. Complicating things that should be simple. He shouldn't be thinking about this.

_She'll turn her back on you_

He knew she'd just betray him to the Order. He hid behind the statue of Wilfrid the Wistful. Everyone else should be gone by now, but the Patil twins had stayed late, blathering to Professor Trelawney about Mars and Venus and whether or not it meant something mystical for Potty. Specifically if Potty was going to get a girlfriend. Strange, Draco had thought Potty was still dating the Weasel's sister.

_She covers her tracks and buries the clues_

He knew it would take her a while to escape Potty and Weasel, regardless of how good she was at sneaking out. This he knew, was taking it too far. Sneaking out to meet the Muddleborn. Jumping over the line of what was safe into what definitely wasn't. He couldn't make up excuses for this.

_She's only set out to burn you_

He could only hope she hadn't set the thing up as an elaborate joke, a trap for him. Not the kind where she'd humiliate him, he wouldn't expect that of her. No, she'd be the sort to secretly tell Dumbledore, and then he'd be up in that overdone office (half the so-called devices were just Muggle novelty toys), verataserum-laced lemon drops shoved down his throat and half his secrets given away.

_And you know your better off so c'mon…_

Then he'd be dead in the morning, killed 'by accident' in his bed by the Death Eater's kids. That or whisked away to see his father and the Dark Lord.

_Drop the girl... Whoooooa_

He'd overheard the professors talking about getting the Death Eater kids out of Hogwarts. Not the ones who hadn't done anything, and weren't planning to, like Rabbitsfoot, but just all of them. All on the argument of being a 'security risk.' As if all of them combined were more of a security risk than Potter, who seemed to get chased down by something dangerous every second week. But not until after it had raced around the castle, frightening the firsties, and injuring the second years.

_The bridge is fast and burning so set her down in flames and just…_

But it did serve as a reminder. It was his seventh year. His last year at school. When he graduated he was expected to serve the Dark Lord, take the mark and take his place in the world. He'd be expected to kill traitorous muggle-lovers like Weasel's family and put down Mudbloods like Granger to stop them spreading their blight to the Wizarding world. It made him hysterical to that even the thought of killing Weasel, nevermind Granger, made him feel sick. A bubbling feeling in his stomach and mad laughter. It reminded him of how Aunt Bella had laughed when she was in prison, like she knew she couldn't get out. That was how he felt now. Like he couldn't get out.

_DROP THE GIRL! _

It had come from Goyle one night while he was arguing about it with Blaise in the Common Room. They'd been doing it for long it felt like an elaborate dance. He'd make a point of how clever she was, and how nice it was to have a competent partner, and Blaise would call her a Mudblood, and talk about how she was on Potty's side. Apparently he wasn't the only one who was getting tired of the argument.

_Throw your pride aside and show your friends some faith_

He'd even gotten a visit from some of the older –now graduated- students who'd been his friends and mentors in years past. They were in the service of the Dark Lord, or close to it. They'd cite how he owed his loyalty to Wizarding Culture and the Dark Lord. Bentley had even pleaded with him to throw his pride aside. He'd been like an older brother to Draco at times, and he'd been worried. A note of it in his voice had betrayed him when his words didn't.

_Is there a night where she forgets your name?_

Bentley'd almost pleaded with Draco to stop it. Sometimes he wondered if that was the real reason he hung out with her during classes. Not all classes, just a few. Just as a little bit of teenaged rebellion. Something stupid he needed to get out of his system before he graduated.

_Who's got your back when everything's starting to fall right apart again?_

Besides, she'd been the only other person, outside of the Slytherins of course, whod' shed tears over Pansy's death. The Order had killed her, and Dumbledore hadn't even given her the same dignity Diggory got. Instead he mentioned it as though her death had been an accident, something that had happened in an instant. As though she'd just happened to be walking by, and wasn't in the fight at all. But she had been.

_Is that what it takes?_

And everyone knew it, from the little first years who sung skipping songs about Death Eaters, to the older students who fought in the halls about it. There had been tense weeks when the Griffinors, Weasel in particular, had made remarks about how Pansy was a traitor, was Death Eater Scum and had Deserved it. As if anyone deserved it. Draco hadn't restrained himself from launching himself at Weasel then and breaking his nose, Muggle-style.

_Drop the girl… Whooooa_

The other Slytherins had asked him to stop punching Weasel when he made those remarks. He'd lost so many points for

_She's the only reason she's got you believing it's love_

They were all still convinced Draco and Pansy had been a couple, a myth they'd made a point to create among the other students. They were just friends, and definitely didn't want to be anything else. Pansy was a lesbian for one, well, mostly a lesbian. She still kissed boys sometimes, and dated them occasionally. She had explained it was because she could never just be sure. How sometimes it was nice to pretend to be a normal girl. How strange it was to kiss a boy instead of a girl. Draco could sort of see the allure.

_Drop the girl… Whooooa_

That was what Pansy would say. Only in better terms. And she'd explain. She reiterate all those rational little thoughts floating around in his head about why he shouldn't talk to her, shouldn't sit next to her, shouldn't even look her way without a sneer on his face.

_The bridge is fast and burning so set her down in flames and just_

He was running out of time. In a few minutes Snape would be up around Griffindor tower patrolling as usual and he'd get caught. He wasn't sure which would be worse. Having Snape think he was out to murder Griffindors, or thinking he was out to betray he Dark Lord. Neither looked good.

_Drop the girl from the highest building_

He could always tell Snape he had been planning to murder Granger. Push her off the Astronomy tower, where they were headed. But Snape didn't know where they were headed. He could almost imagine the swish of the cold air by his nose as she flew past him. Occumency would fill Snape in. He just wasn't sure if he could pull that off.

_You can when you have to_

He had managed to fool his mother that summer. He'd gotten better and better at Occumency, though he hadn't inherited his mother's talents in that area sadly. Maybe it would be enough to fool Snape. But what if he was caught by Dumbledore?

_You gotta see through the skin_

He just had to hope Dumbledore would see through the lie and let him go. He couldn't be caught sneaking around Griffindor tower.

_Drop the girl… Whooooa_

He felt a cold poke to between his shoulder blades and stiffened in shock. He couldn't be caught. He turned to see Granger's head floating in midair, the rest of her hidden behind Potty's invisibility cloak.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I had to wait to sneak it past Harry,"

He sneered at that, and they spent the rest of the walk in silence. He could almost pretend he was alone. The only thing giving her away was the slight smell of Cinnamon in her shampoo.

_The bridge is fast and burning so set her down in flames and just,_

He hadn't asked why she wanted to do this. But she did , and he did, and it seemed like they were the only ones who did. So who cared if she was a Griffindor? Who cared what her reasons for doing this were? It wasn't like it would change anything tomorrow.

"Ready?" Granger asked, her lower lip trembling, and her eyes bright. Draco nodded back, and he drew his wand, crossing it with hers.

They said the incantation silently and the sparks flew up slowly. For a second he thought it hadn't worked, but then it grew. Simple, elegant letters grew, blazing above the castle in flaming glory spelling out her name.

_Pansy_

**_I_ know, this makes no sense. It will make more sense when the entire series is up, whenever that happens.. Reviewers shall get cookies made by Draco...**


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